Destiny of the Chosen
by alicesandra
Summary: Sequel to 'Blood of the Heir'. Set post season 5. Colonel John Sheppard fights a battle he alone can make, but the Legacy of Janus reaches far beyond him. For now, his blood must also play their part. It is the Destiny of the Chosen.
1. Chapter 1

**Destiny of the Chosen**

 **Chapter 1 – Home**

 _ **For those that have been Chosen,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **you must walk with Faith.**_ _ **  
**_ _ **In the deep fragmented dreams,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **you will find your Way.**_ _ **  
**_ _ **To walk through the burning fires,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **and tear down the gates.**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Like a shape shift apparition,**_ _ **  
**_ _ **but with an Angel's grace.**_

"Sheppard!" Ronon's grin was infectious as he waded through the glistening water towards him, creating a wake like some kind of souped up ocean liner. "Nice moves."

John combed his dripping hair back with his fingers and tried not to look too smug. The figure eight of the roundhouse cutbacks had been almost flawless, but the landing of the crazy aerial backflip that his friend had said couldn't be done had been perfect.

"Wait. What am I supposed to say again?" Ronon made a fist then extended his thumb and smallest finger out. "Totally awesome, _dude_?"

John struggled not to laugh. "Yeah, but I don't think it suits your … Satedan sensibilities. We'll work on it."

"Seriously, that was pretty cool."

"What can I say?" John shrugged as his rather smug grin widened. "It's all …"

A powerful wave suddenly crashed into him, knocking him off his feet and carrying him further into shore. His feet managed to find purchase in the soft sand just as a firm hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the surface.

"In the balance?"

John's grin returned with a spluttered laugh. "Something like that, yeah."

He reached down to steady his surf board as it bumped into his leg.

Just as he'd expected, the surfing conditions were perfect. But what he hadn't considered was how much more incredible it would be with his enhanced abilities.

 _Oxygen, Hydrogen, Chloride, Sodium, Magnesium_ _…_ He didn't just ride the wave; he'd _become_ the energy of the wave, the elements of water, so pure and so beautiful that it had taken his breath away.

The turbulent kinetic energy reached critical level, vibrating through his feet, coursing up his spine, a split second before the wall of water went vertical. Lying closely into the wall, he'd held his line. Under the cresting lip above his head, deep within the forming curl of the greenroom, he'd raced along the tube before the exit closed.

He was the wave, deep within the hollow, part of the vortex of spiralling energy. Lost in liquid.

It was good to be free.

"You know what time it is?" Ronon asked.

John flung him a quizzical look. "Got somewhere you need to be?"

"It's beer o'clock."

John nodded approvingly as he smiled. "My favorite time of the day."

Ronon's arm felt slick as it encircled his bare shoulders, and they made their way back to the beach. The moisture was refreshingly cool against his skin as the heat of the sun and gentle warm breeze continued to bear down.

After everything that had happened, he'd so needed this.

He felt the pull at his ankle as the tether to his board started to drag through the sand behind him. He reached down, but suddenly stopped. He grimaced and carefully straightened up as he massaged a deep ache in his lower back.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Probably just slept funny."

"That or old age."

John smacked Ronon playfully with the back of his hand. "It's not the age, buddy, it's the mileage."

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that. _Old_ buddy."

John's grin was half-hearted as he carefully reached once more for his board.

The ache wasn't easing.

"Wanna go again?"

"Sure." John wasn't sure. "Why not?"

He froze, his grin morphing into a gasp as his back suddenly went into spasm.

"Sheppard?" Concern rippled off his friend as Ronon once more grasped his arm.

John breathed slow and shallow through the pain as his energies abruptly numbed the area. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

John exhaled slowly as he turned his focus inward. Muscles, tendons, ligaments … all fine. "Yeah."

His friend's silence didn't lessen the penetrating yet questioning stare.

No. Something definitely didn't feel right.

He concentrated and reached out with his energies.

Reality jolted his very essence.

It wasn't him. It wasn't his pain.

"We gotta go."

Ignoring the ache that had returned, John abruptly detached himself from his board and Ronon yanked it from his arms, leaving him free to throw on his shirt and gather up his belongings.

"McKay!" Ronon's demeanor had switched from easygoing to intensely focused.

John didn't need to look to know that his other friend hadn't moved from his fixed position several yards away.

"Rodney!"

"What?"

John yelled over his shoulder as he strode up the ramp of the Jumper. "We're leaving!"

"But I haven't even finished …"

"Move it, McKay!" Ronon barked as he followed him inside.

John dropped his stuff in a heap, then promptly stumbled over something that Rodney had left in the gangway of the jumper. He would've landed on his face had Ronon's steadying hand not grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Easy, Sheppard."

"For goodness sake!" Rodney clattered up the ramp, arms full of stuff that Ronon promptly snatched to stow away. "I thought we were—"

"Just shut up and sit down." John didn't have time to explain.

" _Excuse_ me?"

John flung himself into the pilot seat, just as the jumper powered up. Drive pods quickly extended and engaged, and they were in the air and gaining speed before Rodney had even flopped down into the co-pilot's seat.

"Where's the damn fire?"

John increased their velocity. "It's time."

"What?" Rodney's demanded sharply. "Time for what?"

John slid his friend a loaded glance.

Rodney's eyes suddenly widened. "You mean …?"

"Yes, Rodney. It's _that_ time."

His friend instantly looked panicked, and the inevitable deluge of words tumbled out. "But it's too soon. You sure? Did something happen? Oh my God, something's happened."

John took a deep measured breath to still his energies. "Calm down, Rodney. Yes, I know. Yes, I'm sure. And no, not as far as I can tell."

Rodney was silent for all of about ten seconds as he registered his exact answers. "But …"

 _"Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis tower, do you copy?"_

"This is Sheppard."

 _"Sir, I have a message from Doctor Beckett."_

His heart skipped a beat. "Go ahead."

 _"He doesn't want to alarm you, but you need to return to Atlantis as soon as possible."_

John smiled as he glanced at the large bouquet of hand-picked flowers that lay on the console. "Already on my way, Chuck. ETA 38 minutes."

 _"Understood, Sir. I'll let them know."_

"I told you, didn't I? I said that checking out the local wildlife and ' _catching some waves'_ was a bad idea. Something always happens whenever we go off-world. And, oh, surprise, surprise, I was right. As usual."

John tried to ignore his friend. The closer he got to Atlantis, the stronger the connection became, and right now it was hard enough for him to fly in a straight line.

 _John?_

Her cry was instant as a fragmented wave of agony hit him.

 _I'm on my way, Teyla._

He didn't want to completely block her out, so he closed his eyes and his powerful energies reached out to soothe her pain. He wanted, needed to feel that connection. Especially now.

He could feel the babies' confusion, their unease. They didn't understand.

 _It's ok, little guys. Daddy's coming._

Their tiny heart beats rippled and calmed within his energies, a sensation that never ceased to thrill or amaze him.

"So I guess this is it then." Ronon's quiet tone broke through his consciousness.

John opened his eyes. "What?"

"You. Gonna be a dad."

John smiled as his excited anticipation flooded through him. "Yeah."

"Who'd a thought it?"

John raised an eyebrow at Rodney. "Meaning?"

Rodney smiled. "You didn't just get the girl. You got the family. "

John suddenly grunted and exhaled slowly through gritted teeth as another bout of pain sliced through him.

"You okay?" Rodney's tone was wary.

"Yeah."

The contractions were not only increasing in strength, but in regularity. His energies instinctively reached out again to soothe and calm her pain.

"Wait a second. Can you … feel them right now?"

John could only nod his affirmation.

"Wow. What does _that_ feel like?" Rodney asked, his incredulous tone bordering on disturbed.

John winced. "Painful."

"Yeah, I remember."

John's smile was slight, his mind and energies elsewhere. "Sympathetic labor pains?"

"No," Rodney scoffed as he folded his arms. "I was actually referring to the fact that I helped to deliver Torren."

John smiled. "I know you were, buddy. And—"

Another wave of pain suddenly crashed into him, taking his breath away.

Once again he reached out to soothe her pain. Damn, the contractions were seriously close now. He was running out of time.

 _John! Where are you?_

His energy shivered at her heartfelt cry. She was more than worried.

 _Still a couple of minutes out. You okay?_

 _I need you …_

His heart skipped a beat. He could feel her fear.

 _I'm almost there, I swear. Just hold on, baby._

 _John … I can't …_

He tightened a hold on their connection. It wasn't like her to feel so uncertain. But then she'd never given birth to twins.

 _Yes, you can. You can do this._

John inhaled sharply as another wave of agony punched him squarely in the gut.

"Contractions are getting pretty frequent …"

Rodney's powers of observation never ceased to amaze him.

John nodded on a slow exhale. If Teyla was going through it, then he would go through it with her.

But he had little time to respond as another powerful punch came again.

"Crap," he groaned and folded over, clutching his stomach.

Where was Carson? Why wasn't he giving her anything for the pain?

He reached out, once again to reassure and soothe away her pain.

But the more he focused on her, the more his confusion grew.

They'd talked about a water birth, but he could feel no water surrounding her, no gentle music to ease her tension.

The cramping agony slowly started to spread.

He tried again, but her pain still wasn't easing.

His powers had never been so powerful, so why weren't his energies working?

What the hell was going on?

"John?"

Rodney's concern wasn't a priority right now.

 _Teyla?_

His heart and energies stumbled at the sudden silence.

Something was terribly wrong.

He opened his mind and deepened their connection. His breath faltered as his energies abruptly shuddered.

He could feel it.

There was more than just her pain and their confusion. There was a strange presence, a distinct yet faint foreign pulse of ice cold heat threading through his energy …

Ice. Cold. Heat.

As old as time itself.

 _Oh, crap!_

 _Teyla …_

He needed to _see_.

The second he summoned his Sight, pain pierced through his eyes like a heated blade and his vision imploded.

Reality abruptly collided with fantasy. Images collapsed, emotions ruptured.

White light faded to a flushed pink. Distorting …

There was no beach. No Rodney, no Ronon.

Pink whirled to crimson. Hindering …

He was alone.

Crimson to blood red lava. Suppressing …

It wasn't her pain; it was his.

Blistering heat suddenly splintered, mutating into glutinous magma, crawling through his body, searing and scorching every inch of his veins as it snaked towards his lungs, towards his heart.

This was his own personal hell.

He frantically dug deep, struggling to focus his unstable energies into action, creating dam after dam to stop the flow, but it wasn't enough.

Every single one was slowly devoured.

He couldn't breathe …

 _Teyla!_

* * *

She couldn't breathe.

Excruciating heat, indescribable pain.

"John!"

She gasped as her eyes shot open, the agony suddenly vanished as she drew in much needed oxygen to her lungs. She took slow deep breaths, trying to steady her racing heart as her hands moved across her stomach, soothing the babies' unease.

Breathe …

Yet she couldn't shake it. The feeling. She'd felt the strength of his reassuring energies. She'd heard his gentle utterances of love …

He'd been coming home.

A solitary tear slid down her cheek.

It had felt so real. But it was just one more exquisite dream to torment her.

So many times she'd thought she'd felt his energies, sensed his presence only to find that it had been David; his energies so similar but yet so different. He'd tried to soothe her discomfort, tried to help ease her fears. But the very touch of his energies were so much like John's that it had been … too much for her to bear.

So many hopes, so many tears had fallen as reality had brought her tumbling down.

Yet not once had she ever felt pain.

Her heart stumbled.

Could it be …?

 _John?_

The sound of silence was her only companion.

Only a dream. The deep ache in her heart strengthened as her hope faded.

Twenty-three days.

It had been twenty-three days since she'd truly felt his magical warmth.

Twenty-three days since she'd seen his playful smile.

Twenty-three days …

It felt like a time without end.

She exhaled slowly through pursed lips, then carefully sat up and swept her hand over the side light sensor.

All was silent, all was still.

All alone.

For the first few days, Teyla went through the motions of living. She breathed, she hoped, she smiled and she spoke. But as the days dragged into weeks her composure had started to waver. Her nights were empty, her mind too active. When sleep finally came, the real merged with the imaginary, and the pain in her heart twisted a little bit more every time reality finally came crashing down.

She gently stroked the hardened swell of her stomach.

She'd understood that carrying twins would be different, and her bump was considerably larger than it had been with Torren. Her nausea had thankfully faded, but the heartburn and breathlessness, which hadn't been a problem at this stage of her pregnancy before, had been overwhelming. Her appetite had frustratingly dwindled along with her ability to exercise. Her emotions were all over the place, but what distressed her more was how her condition was beginning to affect Torren.

She could still hear John's voice, could still see his handsome face as he'd asked Torren to make her smile whenever she was sad. In the first few days, it had melted her heart as her son had tried to carry out John's wishes. But as the weeks dragged on, it had become harder to endure and her emotions had quickly gotten the upper hand.

He'd stopped asking for his 'dada' when she'd burst into tears. Since then, Torren was more subdued around her and his soulful, dark brown eyes watched her every move _._

Never had she resented their almost telepathic connection more than she did now.

After that, for his sake, she'd readily agreed to have Torren stay with his many willing Uncles and Aunts. He needed time away from her and her tumultuous emotions. But he wasn't the only one whose attitude had changed towards her.

As her bump had grown, many had started to regard her differently, treating her with kid gloves, falling silent whenever she'd entered a room. It was utterly suffocating so she'd retreated to her quarters, but there was no sanctuary to be found there. It only served as an agonizing reminder of John's absence.

She sighed, long and deep. Once again, sleep would evade her. Perhaps a long warm shower would help.

She pulled the bed covers aside. As she passed his side of the bed, something red caught her eye. It was one of his shirts, fallen down behind his chair.

She carefully reached down and picked it up. The rumpled red and white plaid flannel was one of his favorites.

She brought it to her face, her eyes slipped closed as she inhaled deeply.

It was faint, but it was still there. It still smelled of him.

Her strength evaporated, and she sank down into his chair.

Jennifer had said that thirty-six weeks was the term for twins. She was already eighteen weeks gone.

Would John be here to see their sons come into the world or would she hear their first cries alone?

"Where _are_ you, John?"

But silence was still her only answer.

She bowed her head, buried her face in his shirt, and wept.

* * *

Footnotes:

To those of you that are reading my stories for the first time, please make sure you read **The Legacy of Janus** and **Blood of the Heir** first. To those that have, welcome back! I'm so sorry that it took so long but … I won't bore you with the details. I just hope it was worth the wait. As always, please let me know what you think.

My thanks to my ever patient friend, Firedew, who is kindly acting as my beta once again. Without her, this would've probably been on its 100th rewrite by now.

Additional Intel:

Aerial backflip: Also known as the 'Flynnstone flip'. Named after the guy who first created the move, Flynn Novak.

Ronon's surfing hand gesture is one you may have seen Joe Flanigan and Jason Momoa make a few times. It's called the Shaka and originates from Hawaii.

Usual Disclaimers apply; I don't own any of the characters, or the Stargate world…that is purely for MGM's pleasure. I am merely playing in it for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Destiny of the Chosen**

 **Chapter 2 – Twenty-three Days**

"Off-world activation!"

All eyes fell on the event horizon as it settled.

"IDC?"

Radek glanced at Rodney and then checked the screen. "It's Major Lorne."

"About time," Rodney murmured. "Lower the shield."

Ronon strode through first, his long leather coat and dreadlocks drenched, his expression thunderous. Major Lorne trudged through, closely flanked by his team. Their storm capes apparently had made little difference in keeping a torrential downpour from soaking them to the skin.

The Major looked up at Rodney as Ronon stormed off. They'd already reported their unsuccessful mission, yet Lorne's grim expression and slow shake of his head just poured salt into the proverbial wound.

Rodney sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.

Over the years, Radek had seen pretty much all of Rodney McKay's moods. He was frustrating, condescending, pathologically competitive, petty, angry and at times blatantly offensive. Rodney could drive Radek to near insanity in less time than it took the man to devour a sandwich, and having a broken ankle hadn't improved his temperament one bit. But somehow Radek had gotten used to it.

Today, however, Rodney had been strangely quiet. He was pensive, subdued, absorbed in his work. And any time he did have something to say, his tone almost bordered on ... respectful.

It was incredibly unsettling.

"SG-1 is still out there," Radek offered quietly.

"I know." Rodney's voice was equally as soft as he stared at the screen before him.

"You should get some rest, Rodney."

"I'm fine." Rodney pulled the laptop closer and started to type.

Radek knew that expression only too well. It was pointless to push the matter further. Someone else could do that far more effectively than he ever could.

Not that sleep would remove the unfounded guilt which obviously weighed heavily on Rodney's shoulders.

They'd been so sure that they'd known where the Vanir had taken Colonel Sheppard. They'd tracked the Naquadria radiation signature from the Asgard hyperdrive and had headed straight for it. Unfortunately, by the time they'd arrived in the Ida Galaxy there had been no trace of the O'Neill-class warship and the radiation signature had disappeared.

The planet had ticked all the boxes, but they'd found nothing.

The pace had been exhausting as they'd ruled out five more planets, which had been deemed the most hospitable and therefore the most likely candidates. But as their search continued, the disturbing lack of life and the conditions of each planet had grown decidedly worse as the utter devastation wrought by the Replicators had become painfully clear.

Their prime directive to wipe all existence of the Asgard from the Ida Galaxy was chilling enough, but the thought of what might be happening to the Colonel ...

Radek's gaze slid towards the office as the figure slowly turned away from the window, rubbing a weary hand across the back of his neck.

David Sheppard looked tired. They all were. But they were united in their common goal.

They would bring Colonel Sheppard home. Failure wasn't an option.

* * *

Rodney didn't really need to check the latest power distribution readings. All three ZPMs were still working at optimum efficiency and the energy buffers were still maintaining the flow of energy to the hyperdrive perfectly. All the changes John had made to the city were continuing to make a difference.

He just needed to be doing something. He wanted to make a difference.

So far … he was failing.

Twenty-three days.

It seemed longer in some ways. In others, it felt they were in Aspen only yesterday. John had dismissed his concerns that they'd needed more men. They'd had the element of surprise, the amalgamation of Ancient and Wraith tech, not to mention John's somewhat mysterious powers of the Heir of Janus …

On the face of it, their mission had succeeded. They now had Strom, which meant they could finally have some answers. Why he'd wanted to destroy not just John, but the Sheppard family name. What he'd hoped to gain from aligning himself with the Vanir. How he'd manage to contact the Lost Tribe in the first place …

But it all felt so pointless now. The cost had been profound.

Strom's Anti-Sheppard device had not only immobilized John's powers, it had literally killed him. Thankfully, his Ascended mother had mysteriously appeared and broken their rule of non-intervention.

Then the Vanir had predictably turned up, and, to save his brother, John had made himself the new target.

Although it had been unavoidable, the act itself was just so typical of his friend. He'd been doing it for years. But the life of John Sheppard was so different now, and it wasn't just his powers. He was going to be a father – of twins no less – and was engaged to one of the most amazing women Rodney had ever known.

"Rodney?"

He startled, but it wasn't Teyla who'd spoken his name.

He offered her a small tired smile. "Hey, you."

Jennifer smiled as she strolled through the open conference room doors. "Radek said I'd find you in here."

"Yeah, well. This is the quietest place to work right now."

"I hear Ronon and Major Lorne have just returned."

"Yeah." He grimaced as he turned his attention back to the screen. "Another bust."

She rubbed a hand along the top of his shoulders. "You look tired."

Rodney reached for his mug, then grimaced. Empty again. "I just need more coffee."

"What you need is sleep."

Rodney grunted and checked the temperature readings of the hyperdrive, which were still well within acceptable levels.

"Any news from SG-1?"

Rodney sighed heavily. "Not yet."

"Oh, Rodney." She perched on the edge of the table beside him, but her tone was too soft, too sympathetic. He bristled automatically.

"Yeah, well. Eighteen planets down, only eighty or so more to go. If we maintain the same pace, we should get them all done in, oh, about four months." He inwardly shivered at that thought.

"You can't maintain this pace, Rodney. None of you can. People will start making mistakes, get injured …"

He looked up at her sharply. "People like me; you mean?"

Her eyes briefly widened at his tone, but she didn't miss a beat. "In order for people to give their best, they need to be at their best, which means actually sleeping every once in a while and not depending on caffeine. And yes, that includes you too."

"Jennifer, in case you haven't noticed, this is what I do. I drink obscene amounts of coffee, eat as I work, and sleep when the job is done."

His girlfriend/doctor folded her arms. "It's not good enough, Rodney. You'll make yourself ill, and then how much use are you going to be to anyone?"

Since when had she become his mother?

"Right. Busy, busy, lots to do." He turned his attention back to the console and pulled up the list of remaining planets.

"Don't do that, Rodney. Please." Her tone was barely a whisper, but the tenderness was unmistakable.

He struggled to continue to work, but ended up just staring at the screen.

"Rodney." She rested her hand over his, and he looked up, straight into her warm brown eyes.

"Sorry," he murmured on a breath. "I just …"

"I know."

And there it was. Confirmation that she really did know him. Understand him. Love him.

She glanced in the direction of John's office. "How's he doing?"

Dressed in black BDUs, David was seated once more at the desk, back straight and pen in hand as he poured over the laptop.

"Hard to say."

"Why?"

"He's a Sheppard, so not exactly the talkative type."

"Well, from what I hear, he sure seems to have won people over."

"Yeah?"

Jennifer promptly reeled off names and discussions she'd heard, and Rodney's mind drifted.

It came as no surprise that David would be so well received. He was John's brother, after all. Rich. Not ... _completely_ unfortunate looking. Being CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company probably didn't hurt either. David had a wealth of experience in managing, overseeing and delegating on a massive scale, but his sheer diligence had managed to impress even Rodney.

David's thirst to understand was almost unquenchable. He'd asked intelligent questions, called meetings, spoken to every single person, and spent night after night researching the Ancient database.

But as their search for John continued and the days turned into weeks, Rodney had started to see tiny cracks in the Sheppard façade.

"Rodney?"

He blinked. "What?"

Jennifer gave him that look which usually meant he was in trouble.

He went for the humble approach. Again. "Sorry."

She shook her head slowly. "I was saying how I still think he needs to talk."

"About?"

"How he feels."

Rodney snorted. "Yeah. Good luck with that."

"Why?"

"I say again—he's a Sheppard."

"I know, but ever since he accidently broke the window …"

"With his _mind_ ," added Rodney pointedly.

"… he's keeping everyone at a distance. He never seems to sleep. I don't see him eating much. It's not healthy, and I'm getting more than a little worried."

"Have you spoken to him?"

Her smile was somewhat resigned. "He says he's fine. Boy, if I had a dime for every time I heard that."

Rodney couldn't quite manage a smile. "Well, maybe now that Brother Benedict is working with him, he'll understand his powers more and …"

"He needs a friend, Rodney."

He winced. His close friendship with John had made him think that he might be able to find something similar with David. He'd been wrong.

"You don't think I've tried?"

"Maybe Teyla can help."

Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Probably not."

"Why?"

"He seems to be avoiding her at the moment."

"Really? She hasn't mentioned anything."

"I guess he doesn't want to upset her. Or ... hurt her." He grimaced as soon as he'd uttered the words.

"He'd never do that!" Her eyes were wide with shock. "Would he?"

"Not intentionally, no. But it's gotta be in the back of his mind."

Jennifer looked back at the figure in the office. "Poor David."

Guilt stomped all over Rodney's heart once again.

"How's the ankle?"

His own pain seemed both inconsequential and a stark reminder of his own inadequacies. "Fine."

"It would be if you slept every once in a while and ate like a normal human being," Jennifer admonished with tender humor. "You need more calcium in your diet."

"I put cream in my coffee," Rodney rebutted sheepishly.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer grabbed the crutches that he'd shoved against one of the chairs. "C'mon. Time for your check up."

"But …"

"Move it, McKay. Or do I have to get a wheelchair?"

He groaned. Perhaps she knew him a little too well.

* * *

Ronon stomped his way down one corridor after another. He was drenched to the skin from sweat and rain, tired and seriously pissed. He didn't want to talk; he didn't want to think. He was sick of it, all of it.

He just needed her.

Despite the late hour, he knew that she would still be awake.

Amelia's warm smile greeted him the second the door to her quarters slid open. "Hi, stranger."

"Hey."

Her eyes shifted, widening slightly at the bedraggled state of his hair, his coat. "C'mon. You need to get out of those wet clothes."

His thoughts exactly. She felt warm beneath his hands as he slipped them around her slim waist. He moved willingly as she tugged him inside by his sodden shirt. Torren's excited squeal made his ears ring the second he stepped inside.

Ronon squashed down his emotions and forced a smile for the kid, who grinned up at him from his play mat. "Hey, little guy. What you still doing up?

"I was just about to try and put him down again," Amelia replied.

Ignoring the way his pants clung to his legs, Ronon squatted down to ruffle Torren's hair. "Again?"

"Yeah."

Ronon frowned as she lifted the little boy easily to her hip and stroked his back as Torren tucked his head against her chest. Torren's connection to his mother's emotions were becoming more of an issue as the days dragged on.

"She okay?"

Amelia's pained expression was accompanied by a sigh. "She says she is."

Ronon understood. "I'll go see her."

Amelia nodded, but her eyes bore into him, searching. "Are you … okay?"

His jaw tightened. He breathed heavily through his nose and looked down at Torren's head at her chest. He didn't want to keep saying the same thing. He wanted to tell her that they'd found Sheppard. He wanted to say that they'd brought him home. But he couldn't.

Amelia tentatively reached out and rubbed his arm. "I'm so sorry."

Ronon grimaced. He didn't want her sympathy. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted … her.

"I'm gonna go."

Her disappointment was instant. "Oh. Okay."

"Hit the showers, check on Teyla, and then …" He leaned in to barely touch her smooth cheek with his and whispered softly in her ear, "bed."

Her breath hitched as she dipped her head towards his mouth. "Mine?"

He narrowed the space, grazing her soft lips with his own.

"Ronon …"

Her shaky whisper went straight to his groin. "I'll be quick."

"You better."

* * *

"Earth calling Rafaela."

She started and looked up. "I'm sorry, what?"

Doctor Zelenka's expression was one of concern. "Are you okay?"

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she offered him an embarrassed smile. "Sure. What do you need?"

His smile was kind, but he didn't look convinced by her shaky reply. "Why don't you take a break? I can finish up here."

"Honestly, I'm fine, Doctor Zelenka." She promptly focused her attention back to the laptop to check the latest readings. She tried to ignore the very strong sensation that he was still watching her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Rafaela's heart skipped a beat, but kept her eyes firmly fixed on the display. Surely she hadn't been that obvious. She prayed that her voice would sound stronger than she felt. "About what?"

"Whatever it is that's distracting you."

She gave an uneasy laugh. "Nothing's … distracting me. I'm just … maybe a little tired." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the reason.

But Zelenka seemed to buy it as he smiled. "I hear you."

Thankfully, he returned his attention back to his work, and she sighed inwardly. He was such a kind, considerate man. It felt wrong to lie to him, but there was no way she could tell him the real reason for her behavior. It was hard enough admitting it to herself.

Over the past twenty-three days she'd seen him so many times. Though always at a distance, it was obvious that David Sheppard was as natural a leader as the Colonel. But it wasn't just how he shouldered the heavy weight of responsibility with an almost natural grace. He appeared to be the very essence of authority: enigmatic, composed. Unavailable.

He'd almost effortlessly won over the hearts of everyone on Atlantis, including her own.

But not once had he seen her.

It felt like the moments they'd shared in Aspen and when he'd visited her in the infirmary were merely figments of her imagination. And the speech he'd given on TV as he'd handed over the reins of his multi-billion-dollar company, added to the fact that he was now in charge of Atlantis? They couldn't be more worlds apart.

She had no right to go see him, had no reason to. But she couldn't deny how she felt. How her heart raced when she caught sight of him down a corridor, in the mess hall.

He was like a bright white light and she a mere moth. He was inexplicably drawing her in, and she was powerless to stop it.

* * *

"What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying, Rodney," Daniel replied tiredly as he handed his P90 over to one of the SFs. "Is that—"

"There's nothing there, McKay," Mitchell interrupted quickly. He was hot, tired, and seriously wasn't in the mood for the man's usual tantrums.

McKay glared at him. "Ruins and strange energy readings are not _nothing_ , Colonel."

"And I'd usually agree with you, Rodney," Daniel continued. "But after six hours …"

"Six _long_ hours," Vala piped up grumpily as she shook sand out her hair.

"As much as I hate to say it, the ruins really are nothing more than that."

Mitchell had had enough. "Now, if you don't mind, it's time we hit the showers."

Without waiting for the man's response, Mitchell started to head down the steps as Vala uttered a rather sexual groan beside him. "Oh, hell yes."

"Your own shower, Vala."

She snorted as she bumped his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself. Mine is _so_ much bigger than yours."

"And you know this how?"

"Hey! What about the energy readings?"

Mitchell stopped at the doorway, dropped his head as the sound of a certain scientist on crutches followed behind.

"We did not detect any energy anomalies during the entire time we were there," Teal'c added stoically.

"I knew I should've gone with you."

"This isn't exactly our first barbeque, McKay," Mitchell retorted as he turned around.

"But you're no scientist either," McKay threw back.

"Considering your injury," Teal'c interjected. "It was most wise for you to remain here."

McKay grimaced. "Look, all I'm saying is—"

"Colonel?"

David Sheppard stood on the balcony above them, looking composed and enigmatic as usual. But as Mitchell looked up at him, something felt decidedly … different. His penetrating gaze lingered.

"Sorry, David." Daniel spoke up. "I wish we had better news."

A slight bob of the head. "Get some rest. We'll debrief further in the morning."

With that, David turned away and disappeared from view.

Mitchell glanced at Daniel and raised an eyebrow, whose only response was a sad shake of his head.

* * *

Ronon swept his free hand over the door sensor to Sheppard and Teyla's quarters and waited.

And waited.

He was about to sweep the sensor again but hesitated. It was late. Maybe Teyla really had fallen asleep.

He frowned.

Or maybe something was wrong.

He started to reach for his earpiece when the door suddenly swished open. It took only seconds to see the reason why she'd taken so long in coming to the door.

Her tear stained eyes widened. "Ronon."

He tried for a smile. "Hey. Did I wake you?"

"No. I was merely … resting.

Resting. Right.

"You have just returned?"

"Yeah." He regarded his boots, unwilling to utter the words that would only deepen her disappointment.

Teyla inhaled sharply. "Tell me he isn't …"

Since when had she started to assume the worst? Maybe turning up at her door in the middle of the night hadn't helped.

He placed a hand on her arm reassuringly. "We found nothing, Teyla. Nothing."

She swallowed hard and nodded falteringly, but her anxious expression remained. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking the trouble to tell me."

Ronon let out a deep sigh as he rubbed at his forehead. Her thanks felt empty.

"It grows late. I'm sure that Amelia is awaiting your return."

"Yeah."

"Then do let me not keep you, Ronon."

But his feet refused to move. She looked too pale, too exhausted, too tortured and his guilt twisted deep in his gut. He'd sworn to Sheppard that he'd watch out for her and the babies, and he was failing.

Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and without uttering another word, Ronon took hold of her hand and led her back inside. The door slid shut as he guided her over to the couch, sat down beside her and waited.

"Forgive me," she said shakily, unable to meet his gaze.

He stared at her incredulously. "Forgive you?"

She bit down hard on her lower lip as it started to tremble, and closed her eyes.

"C'mere," he murmured as he pulled her gently into his arms. She needed very little persuasion and folded herself into his embrace.

He held her to his chest and, after a moment, carefully eased them both back against the cushions.

He didn't want to talk, but he had to. He didn't want to think, but he needed to.

"I should be the one apologizing," he murmured into her soft hair.

She shifted a little to look questioningly up at him. "Ronon, you have nothing to—"

"I should be here more."

Teyla shook her head, her expression intense. "You are exactly where you should be, Ronon. And I am perfectly—"

"You're not _fine_ and you know it." He dared her to contradict him.

She exhaled slowly as she bowed her head to rest against his chest. It was confirmation enough.

"I heard him, Ronon." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He frowned, letting the silence lengthen.

"I heard John."

His frown deepened. "When?"

"In my dream."

He paused. "What did he say?"

Silence stretched.

"He was coming … _home_."

Her voice trembled, and Ronon grimaced as he tightened his hold.

"I know it was only a dream, but it felt … so real." Her hand caressed her swollen stomach. "I know that they felt it too."

Her free hand grazed across her forehead as though to shield her expression from him, but the hitch of her breath indicated her struggle for control.

He winced. She didn't need to do that, not with him. But he understood. It was who she was.

"Hey." The depth of his own emotion broke through, feeling like splinters in his throat.

Her hand stilled, then covered her eyes.

He shifted slightly and took hold of her hand. It felt so small in his as he gently lowered it from her face. "Look at me."

As she lifted her gaze a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. It literally broke his heart.

"We're gonna find him, Teyla. We _will_ bring him home."

Her chin dimpled and merely nodded as she rested her head back against his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. His gaze wandered across the room. Sheppard's surfing magazines sat neatly piled on the table next to her scented candles. His running shoes stood beside hers near the door. Toys he'd bought for Torren were all stored in a slightly battered wooden box that Sheppard had said had once been his own. Sheppard and Teyla were a family now. Their love was strong, stronger than he'd ever seen.

Sheppard's sense of honor was one of his strongest qualities, but his sense of family was at the very core of who he was. Across galaxies, Sheppard had found a way to reach out to his brother. And now that they were in the same Galaxy … had he reached out again?

Teyla's breathing had started to deepen and the tension in her small frame had eased. The gentle press of her unborn rested against him, triggering his instinctive desire to protect, to defend.

Until Sheppard returned, he would do everything and anything to take care of her … and their sons.

Damn. Amelia would be disappointed. But he knew that she'd understand.

Teyla needed a friend right now, and he needed to be that friend.

* * *

Leaning both hands against the wall of the substantial shower cubicle, Daniel sighed as the blissfully hot water cascaded over his weary body, turning the water a chestnut brown as it pooled at his feet.

The last planet had been a real doozy. Though he'd experienced many on Abydos and other planets, the word 'sandstorm' didn't quite describe the almost tornado-like conditions they'd had to battle through in order to get back to the gate.

The ruins had been the biggest let down. He'd very rarely come across a site that held no markings, no signs to indicate its creators or what it might have once been. He'd even carried out small excavations around parts of the ruins to be sure he hadn't missed anything. Sadly, it appeared that sand and time had weathered away any such clues. Besides, the stone like walls weren't anything like Daniel would associate with the Asgard.

As for the supposed energy reading that Rodney had detected coming from the area, they'd also drawn a blank. Having been in similar situations before, they'd known better than take anything at face value so they'd stayed, much to Vala's annoyance.

So it was with a heavy heart that they'd reported in that, once again, they'd found nothing.

He sighed as he reluctantly turned off the tap, grabbed his towel from the hook and started to dry himself down.

Eighteen failed missions in twenty-three days. In all his years with Stargate Command, Daniel couldn't recall ever having covered so many planets in such a short time before. If Atlantis had still been under the jurisdiction of the IOA or even the SGC, they would've pulled the plug on the search long ago. Thankfully they weren't, but he could find little solace in that.

And neither could David Sheppard.

David had stepped up in a big way since he'd made the decision to fill his brother's shoes in Atlantis. He wasn't military, but his work ethics were just as strict. He worked the same gruelling hours as everyone else; his door was never closed to anyone. Night after night, when everyone else was running on caffeine, he was seen walking the corridors, visiting each of the different departments, checking to see if any progress was made and making sure everyone was holding up under the pressure. Their issues were his issues, and he bore that responsibility with a quiet yet resolute strength that was inspiring.

However, it was obvious, as the days passed into weeks, that the prolonged search was taking its toll. On everyone.

From the moment they'd reached the Ida Galaxy they'd all watched, waited and prayed that he would again hear from his brother. But in the following weeks, not once had David had a vision nor sensed his presence. Although Rodney had devised a list of viable planets, many of them were dotted across the entire length and breadth of the colossal Ida Galaxy, so even with a city ship as powerful as Atlantis, it still took time to travel from one planet to the next. On arrival, MALPS and reconnaissance drones were sent to planets that had Stargates. Those that didn't, they'd made full use of the cloaked Jumpers. Man power was always in high demand, but they only had so many teams and most of those were already doing double shifts.

People were tired, Daniel included. He was both humbled and driven by the attitude of the people around him. Their dedication and determination to find their Commander had not wavered. But perhaps it was time to ask Jack if the SGC could spare more people.

He secured the towel around his waist and started to rub his hair dry as he ambled out of the bathroom.

"Well, hello gorgeous!"

He froze. "Vala, what the hell?"

Draped somewhat provocatively across his bed, she was wearing a little black lace number and a beaming smile.

"Thought you might need some help." She gestured rather alluringly to one of his books that was open on her lap.

"What I _need_ is for you to leave." He pointed towards the door. "Now."

"Oh, Daniel." She slid off the bed, pouting. "Don't be like that."

"Vala," he groaned as she moseyed towards him. "I'm really tired and …"

"So let's go to bed."

He tightened his hold on the towel and took a few steps back, but he bumped into his desk. "Vala."

"Daniel." Her finger touched his mildly damp chest and started to move down.

He caught her hand in a firm grip. "Would you just _stop_?"

She bit her lip and turned on her hurt puppy expression.

"Oh, please. You really think that's gonna work?"

She huffed, then lowered her head and hand.

Seeing his opportunity, he abruptly snatched his t-shirt and pants from the chair, rushed into the bathroom and locked the door.

"Coward!"

He smirked and quickly started to throw on his clothes. "So why exactly are you here in my room?"

She was saying something, but he didn't quite catch it through the closed door.

He flung the door open when he'd finished dressing. "I'm sorry, what?"

Vala still stood by his desk, idly running her restless fingers over his books. "I'm bored."

Daniel was suddenly at a loss for words. "You're _bored_?"

She winced. "Well, maybe bored isn't exactly the right word."

"Good. 'Cos if I thought for one moment that this whole mission wasn't _entertaining_ enough for you …"

Her eyes widened with surprise at his angry tone. "I didn't mean …"

She trailed off and her expression changed to what Daniel could only describe as contrite. He softened his tone.

"So what _did_ you mean?"

Her silence was strangely telling.

"Vala?"

The pout returned. "You'll laugh."

"No, I won't."

"Will too."

He folded his arms. "Try me."

She twiddled with a strand of her hair. "I'm kinda interested in someone."

"Okay," he replied carefully. "A man?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course a man."

"I take it he knows?"

"Well, you know me."

"So what's the problem?"

"He's not interested."

"What?" Daniel feigned his surprise. "Surely not."

He ducked as one book flew in his direction.

"I hate you."

His desire to laugh was abruptly squashed. She genuinely looked unhappy. But relationship advice wasn't exactly his forte, least of all when it came to Vala. "So, er ... is he married?"

She frowned. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Okay, so you gonna tell me his name?"

She inhaled slowly and then breathed out. "David."

" _Sheppard_?"

"You don't need to act so surprised, Daniel. I've made it pretty clear."

He picked up the book and wandered over to put it back on the desk as she stared at her hands and sighed heavily.

"Perhaps it's not you, Vala, but rather your timing."

She perched on the edge of his desk and he yanked out a couple of books from beneath her backside.

"I understand that this is all serious stuff. I do. But all I want to do is be there for him. But he won't let me in."

Daniel smiled tenderly at her bowed head. Vala had come a long way in the last five years. Though she still had the inane ability to test his patience, she was no longer the dishonest, self-interested thief that she once was. The needs of others now came before her own, she allowed herself to trust and to feel compassion that had once been so deeply buried. Yet Daniel couldn't recall a time when she'd been so genuinely affected by a guy, even if she did give the false impression of wanting to get into his bed. She only did that because it drove him crazy, and for some reason, she lived to push his buttons.

"Sometimes, Vala, you really are your own worst enemy."

She raised her dark brown eyes. "Meaning?"

"Your method of befriending someone is rather like a bull in a china shop."

She glared at him. "I'm not a bull, Daniel."

Daniel counted to ten. "Subtlety has never been one of your strongest points, and I think what David needs right now is somewhat … different to what you're clearly proposing."

She threw him a deadpan look. "Daniel, it's not always about sex."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, okay, so maybe just a little …"

"Vala." He groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"Well, you have to admit that he is rather fit and …"

"Okay, stop!" He held up both hands. "This is exactly my point. Look. If you want my advice, I suggest that you tone down the whole sensual ruse you usually do and just … talk to him."

"Talk? I've been doing nothing _but_ talk."

"You need to offer him your friendship, rather than your bed."

She blinked at him and then slowly began to smile. "Daniel?"

"Yes?"

Vala jumped off the edge of the desk, grabbed his face in both hands, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

"You're a genius." She then virtually skipped to his door.

"Hey!"

Her hair swung like a tidal wave as she spun around. "Yes?"

"Try to put yourself in his position. He really doesn't need any more complications."

"No complications. Got it."

"I mean it, Vala."

"Trust me." She threw him a beaming grin. "I got this."

He stared at the closed door and leaned back against his desk. "Oh, boy."

* * *

With Daniel's words echoing loudly in her mind, Vala concluded that perhaps her appearance needed some adjustment; something less provocative. So she'd gone for the black, unassuming—not to mention totally shapeless—BDU's and she'd tied her long flowing locks back into a ponytail, then adjusted her makeup accordingly.

She considered her reflection in the mirror.

Perfect.

She beamed at herself, which abruptly faded. Not exactly subtle. She tried again.

Better.

Despite the late hour, Chuck had confirmed David's whereabouts, and she could see the light emanating from his office as she made her way up the stairs to the Control Room.

She smiled her thanks to a red-faced Chuck as she passed by, who grinned and muttered something, but her focus was on the solitary figure in the room at the end of the walkway.

The lighting had been turned down so that the glow from the laptop screen cast its light across his fine features as his attention remained fixed and focused.

 _"Try to put yourself in his position …"_

She'd seen so much, experienced too much, but nothing that really allowed her to relate to anything that David Sheppard had to be going through. She'd seen him in Aspen, watched as his brother had slowly lost his fight for life. Pretty much after that had been a blur, but she could imagine his pain, could feel it through his fixed, masked expression **.** A mask though it may be, there were fleeting moments when it slipped. To see such tormented depth in his steel blue eyes was as hypnotic as it was distressing.

The overwhelming draw and heady pull of attraction were Vala's old friends. They were more like a game to her than anything else, and one she usually enjoyed playing. But this was no crush. She knew what it was, but the fact that she even felt it was more than just unsettling. She was usually so guarded when it came to letting people in, but somehow David had managed to get under her skin. He was in her thoughts from the second she woke up to the time she went to bed.

He was drop dead gorgeous, sure, but it was more than that. He was more than an unknown mystery just waiting to be discovered. He was intoxicating to be near, yet his concealed pain was pulling at her heart. She knew what it was like to be on the outside, with no one to turn to. But he could turn to her, if only he would let her in.

David looked straight up at her, and her heart skipped a beat.

 _Man, is he handsome!_

"Vala."

His voice was just too perfect, and the way he said her name …

 _"Offer him your friendship, rather than your bed."_

She cleared her throat and tried to assume her altered persona. "David."

"Is there something that I can do for you?"

 _God, yes!_

"I was wondering …" She trailed off, unsure of just how to put her feelings into words.

"Yes?" He drew out the word like he was teasing her.

 _Cool, play it cool …_

"It's late. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She turned on her heel and took a step.

"Vala."

She froze.

"Is something wrong?"

She clasped her hands together and turned around. "No." His eyes were the most heavenly blue. She quickly averted her own. "Not really."

"Vala?"

For a split second, she had the overwhelming desire to confess every single sin she'd ever committed and all the ones that she wanted to.

She gave him a little embarrassed smile. "You'll just think I'm a bit … wacko."

"Why ever would I think that?" A small smile tugged at his dreamily formed lips.

Her pout was hopefully subtle. "You're making fun of me."

"Vala, what is it that you want?"

She swallowed hard. "Your company."

His finely chiselled brow wrinkled and exhaled as he sank back into his chair. "Vala …"

 _And here it comes …_

"It's late."

"I know."

"You must be tired from your mission."

"Not really."

"I still have a great deal of work to do."

"I'm sure it can wait."

His expression and tone cooled. "I'm not good company, Vala."

She'd only heard about his volatile 'abilities' and understood to a degree that he wasn't in full control, but strangely that didn't faze her.

She offered him a restrained smile. "I'll take my chances."

His lips tightened to a thin line as he looked down at his hands.

She took a slight step forward. "I know that I may seem to be a little … forward at times, but you must know that it's just a front. I genuinely like you, David, and anyone can see that … you need a friend right now. I'd like to be that friend. If you'll let me."

Silence.

"Just friendship, David, nothing more."

His silence continued, but something felt different. A shift in the air, a vibration …

"Are you afraid of letting someone in? Because if it is, I can totally understand that. I've been shutting people out for years. But since joining SG-1, I've learned the true value of friendship and that you aren't alone and—"

"But I am alone."

His tone pulled her up short. "You're wrong, David."

He looked up and she could see the unguarded glimmer of anguish in his eyes. "I wish I was."

"People care about you, more than you know. If only you could see that."

His penetrating gaze reached into the very depths of her soul.

He looked away for a heartbeat and the mask had returned. "I take it you'll be present for the debrief at 0900?"

She'd fully expected his response, yet she still felt the sting of it. But she'd followed Daniel's advice and had held out her hand in friendship. Now it was down to him to take it.

She gave him an understated smile. "Goodnight, David."

* * *

Footnotes:

My thanks to all you wonderful readers that have taken the time to review, follow and favourite this story. Knowing that you are still interested in my crazy stories makes all the effort worthwhile. My thanks also to the ever patient, Firedew, who continues to keep my feet on the ground and my focus true.

The stage is set; now the story can begin …


	3. Chapter 3

Destiny of the Chosen

 **Chapter 3 – Twenty-five Days**

The delicate riff of a reverb laden guitar filtered through the room, its haunting melody crystal clear from the laptop speakers. Strings plucked one at a time, moving up and down the musical scale, changing chord as they completed a round. A fretless bass faded in from the back and joined the lone guitar.

 _Hey, you_

 _Out there in the cold  
Getting lonely, getting old  
Can you feel me?_

David sighed as he stared out of the window in his room. Space was so very cold.

 _Hey, you_

 _Standing in the aisles  
With itchy feet and fading smiles  
Can you feel me?  
_

His limited involvement in the search was slowly driving him insane.

 _Hey, you_

 _Don't help them to bury the light  
Don't give in …_

 _Without a fight._

John.

 _Hey, you_

 _Out there on your own_ _ **  
**_ _Sitting naked by the phone  
Would you touch me?_

David's eyes slowly squeezed shut.

 _Hey, you_

 _Would you help me to carry the stone?  
Open your heart,_

 _I'm coming home._

Thundering drums and wailing guitars – Pink Floyd at their depressing best.

He turned away from the window, running both hands back through his hair, clasping them together tightly behind his head. Perhaps listening to John's playlist wasn't such a good idea after all. But having found the USB drive in a drawer of his brother's desk, David had been curious as to its contents. So far it had been an eclectic mixture of old and new, Beethoven and Shostakovich all the way to country, indie, and punk rock. But it wasn't his favorite tunes that David was looking to discover; it was a connection. Any connection that would bring him one small step closer to John.

Though he was in John's old room, all his belongings had been moved to his new quarters. There was no trace of him here.

 _Is there anybody out there?_

The words suddenly loomed out of the speakers. The next track had started.

John was out there. Somewhere.

 _Is there anybody out there?_

The high squeal of the guitar was like a serrated knife across his tightly strung nerves. A mournful guitar replaced the haunting voice. He'd noticed a guitar in the quarters John now shared with Teyla and wondered if John still played. He'd never asked. There'd been no time.

He picked up the remote and pressed next.

The catchy upbeat rhythm of "Sixteen Tons" was a stark contrast to Pink Floyd. His dark mood lifted a little.

 _Some people say a man is made out of mud  
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood  
Muscle and blood and skin and bones  
A mind that's a-weak and a back that's strong_

 _You load sixteen tons, what do you get?  
Another day older and deeper in debt  
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go  
I owe my soul to the company store_

He slowly smiled. Of course. No John Sheppard playlist would be complete without Johnny Cash.

Next.

His smile faded as the guitar started to play an all too familiar theme. It was probably the one that John used to associate with the most. But John was no longer a solitary man. He had Teyla. He had family.

Next.

He breathed gently through his nose. His smile was sad, but it was there nonetheless.

 _Well, I won't back down_

 _No, I won't back down  
You can stand me up at the gates of Hell  
But I won't back down_

 _No, I'll stand my ground_

 _Won't be turned around  
And I'll keep this world from draggin' me down  
Gonna stand my ground _

_And I won't back down_

It was as though John was communicating with him through his playlist, trying to lift his spirits.

Next.

"Oh, my God." David hadn't heard this since … forever.

His vision suddenly blurred, and for a moment the past came alive.

Dad's foot tapped in time with the music. John's head bobbed from side to side while he perched on Mom's lap.

 _I remember when I was a lad  
Times were hard and things were bad  
But there's a silver linin' behind ev'ry cloud  
Just four people, that's all we were  
Tryin' to make a livin' out of black-land dirt  
But we'd get together in a family circle singin' loud._

"' _Daddy sang bass_.'" Dad's voice was real deep.

"' _Mama sang tenor_ ,'" Mom answered so prettily.

"' _Me and little brother would join right in there_.'" David laughed through his part as John shouted out the odd word in an attempt to keep up.

They all sang together. "' _Singin' seems to help a troubled soul.'"_

Still singing, Dad moseyed up to Mom and held out a hand. She laughed, helped John slide down from her lap, and they danced around the room.

John tried to dance, but he just bounced around like he needed to go to the bathroom. David laughed so much he was probably going to need to go soon. Mom took hold of John's hand as Dad grabbed his own. Their circle started to turn one way, then the other.

 _Though the circle won't be broken  
By and by, Lord, by and by  
Daddy sang bass (Mama sang tenor)  
Me and little brother would join right in there  
In the sky, Lord, in the sky_

Dad swung John up into his arms and ruffled his hair, still singing …

David's own voice softly broke through his reverie. Strange. He hadn't sung in years.

"Me and little brother would join right in there,  
In the sky, Lord, in the sky

In the sky, Lord, in the …"

David's throat abruptly tightened as his heart ached and his energies dipped painfully. He hit the off button and sank down on the bed.

How old was John then? He himself couldn't have been much older than seven. So that would've made John around five.

David ran a hand across his cheek. It was wet. It had been a long time since he'd wept without realizing it.

He laid back on the bed and stared once more at the ceiling. He didn't need to look at the clock. It had been 2am before he started this musical trip down memory lane, so it had to be at least 4:00 by now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch.

He was just so damn tired. Tired of riding the waves of adrenaline as the teams – his teams – ventured out into the unknown, only to have a sea of disappointment come crashing down as yet another planet was crossed off the list. Weary of hearing Colonel Mitchell repeatedly deny his requests to go out on missions. Exhausted by the intensity of his energies, which were in a constant flux, ever searching, ever hoping for the slightest hint of his brother.

But, truly, what use were they?

His senses were more attuned to everything and everyone around him, which at times was completely overwhelming. He could calm the angry, feel their feelings, ease their discomfort. But it was their expectant feeling of hope, that he would once again sense his brother, would connect to him …

He'd had no visions, no insights, nothing to give them the one break they needed. He'd dreamed, of course, which he'd analyzed and quantified every single one until he wasn't even sure of his own sanity anymore.

He'd started to feel like a fraud.

So he'd done the one thing that he knew that he could do: govern. But in order to be effective, he had to understand. It wasn't as if running an Ancient city or fighting aliens had been covered at Harvard. So he studied, researched, called meetings with Department heads. He wanted to remember their names, understand their roles, listen to their issues. If it wasn't for them and the dedication of every single person in the city, his brother would be lost. He wanted to know them, to thank them and support them.

But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

His energies abruptly surged as his frustration at the Ancients bubbled to the surface. They were all seeing and all knowing, after all. Why didn't they help? They had before, so why not now? Unfortunately, he'd almost expected the complete silence from Janus, but not from Mom. Just before she'd brought John back to life, she'd said something about there being a price to pay. What did that mean?What was the price? And who was to pay it?Was that the reason for their silence?

David exhaled as renewed frustrations churned and seethed beneath the surface and his energies rippled in kind. Things were better now, but ever since John was taken, there were too many questions without answers. Helplessness had hardened into anger and latent resentment, and over time his powers had become dangerously unstable.

He'd been stubbornly reluctant to ask the Monk. His infernal reticence and cryptic responses would do little to ease his demeanor. He could figure it all out. John had taught him a thing or two, after all.

It hadn't exactly gone to plan.

By around day nine, matters had finally come to a head. It hadn't been any one thing that had caused the uncontrollable outburst, but more the series of events that had led up to it. The actual catalyst was almost too embarrassing to think about.

Two more planets had been crossed off the list. His DNA had failed to activate the Rod of Janus. A pounding headache from hell. Probably caused by the constant stream of thoughts and emotions that weren't his own, intertwining with his until he could hardly distinguish where his own stopped and theirs began.

He accidently dropped his pen. It rolled under the desk. Uttering a curse, he bent down to retrieve it, but banged his head on the way back up. He sensed the bottle of water beginning to topple, but he just wasn't fast enough. A tidal wave of water took out everything in its path, saturating all his research and several folders. He scrambled to rescue the laptop, but again he was too late as it promptly fizzed and sparked its untimely demise.

Raging energies rushed to the surface, but he had no real understanding of how to handle them other than he shouldn't seek to control or contain. His frustrated growl reached a crescendo, the air reverberating so fast he could hardly breathe. His anger peaked, and the entire pane of glass of his office promptly exploded outwards.

He was incredibly lucky that it had happened in the early hours of the morning and not during the day, or someone might've gotten seriously injured.

It had been a severe wakeup call.

He'd needed help, and he'd needed it fast.

Brother Benedict had appeared at his door within minutes of him reaching that conclusion.

The lessons still weren't easy. Despite the progress he was making, his impatience to find a way of reconnecting with John had initially made him short tempered. Being repeatedly told that everything would come with time really hadn't eased his disposition.

John didn't _have_ time.

Twenty-five days. Twenty-five days since he'd last heard his brother's voice in his mind. Twenty-five days since John's energy had touched his own. What did that mean?

All he had to do was think of the Vanir experimenting on John just as Strom had done to him, and his energies surged with a flash of heat.

He bolted upright. His breath hissed loudly in the silence. "Damn it."

Thankfully he now had a better understanding of his energies and how to manage them. He had to run this off.

Again.

At least, he was getting fitter.

Several minutes later, he finished tying his running shoes and stood up, glancing at the clock.

5am.

Wonderful. Another night without sleep.

He set off at a steady pace. Even at this hour, the city never slept and there were still people going about their duties. He returned their greetings with a smile and continued to pound down the corridors on a path that had become routine. He gradually picked up speed. Maybe if he just kept running, pushed himself harder, further, faster, he'd eventually collapse into unconsciousness.

He wondered if James was still going for their early morning runs. Probably not, considering what he'd gone through in Aspen.

He pushed himself faster as the surge of energy returned. He'd have to deal with Strom sooner or later. He didn't trust himself with the man while his powers were so volatile. Besides, he knew for a fact that the man had no idea where the Vanir had taken John.

At least James was safe, as was Nancy, and during the last check in with the SGC, General O'Neill had confirmed that all potential charges against PSI had finally been dropped. His company was safe. Safe and in good hands. James knew what he was doing.

He just wished he did.

He slowed to a gentle jog. It still felt odd to be running alone. It wasn't just that it gave you someone to pace with, to push you that little bit faster, that little bit further. It was the companionship.

John used to run with Ronon. Maybe David could ask him if he … No. Though David genuinely liked him, he didn't quite feel he'd found their common ground yet. He certainly wasn't a talker, which made connecting with him that little bit harder.

Maybe Teal'c would agree to run with him. His personal experiences and knowledge of the Asgard had been truly enlightening. But to socialize with him?

Daniel was probably the easiest of them all to relate to, but David's own research had revealed the man's truly uncanny ability at solving mysteries, so David was reluctant to disturb him while he was working.

Rodney … just wasn't a runner.

Colonel Mitchell … wasn't someone he particularly wanted to spend time with at the moment. His constant rejections to David's requests to go off-world were seriously beginning to try David's patience.

Perhaps Major Lorne could spare some time … when he wasn't doing double shifts that was.

Rafaela. Now she _could_ run, and she'd kept a good pace with him, too. Albeit they'd been racing to save John's life from the Vanir at the time. But would she?

Maybe.

Probably.

But he hadn't seen her in weeks, which made him wonder if she was actually avoiding him.

Perhaps it was better for everyone if he just continued to run alone.

" _You aren't alone."_

Vala.

From the very first moment he'd met her, he'd known her type: sexy, high-spirited, intelligent, and undeniably manipulative. Yet there was just something intriguing about her. He'd automatically rebuffed her offer of friendship for a multitude of reasons, but what she'd said had struck a chord.

Like her, he'd been shutting people out for decades. Self-preservation was key when scaling the heights of the corporate ladder, and it hadn't abated once he'd taken over PSI, since his net worth made him a target for gold diggers. Not that this attitude had guaranteed the protection of his heart. It'd still been stomped on. He still carried the emotional wounds from Rachel. And to think he'd been about to propose …

Unlike his brother, who had been far luckier in love than him. John had proposed. He'd found someone who wouldn't stomp all over his heart, whom he could trust to want him and not his money. David still didn't know Teyla that well, but he already regarded her as family, and the desire to protect his family had never been stronger than it was now. But even in that, he was failing.

At first, Teyla had continued to bear herself up with all her usual elegance and poise. Her quiet nature and resolute determination imbued in him a sense of calm in a world so unbelievably … alien. She grounded him.

However, as the days dragged into weeks, her composure had started to falter. He had no real knowledge about such matters, but Teyla's small frame made her look as though she was already eight months gone. Dark circles and anguish had replaced the sparkle in her eyes.

He'd tried to ease her discomfort, to soothe her fears, but the very touch of his energies were so much like John's that it often upset her. He didn't know how else to help her.

Other than to bring his brother home.

So, reluctantly he'd kept their interaction to a minimum. Which was not only hard, it actually hurt. He genuinely missed her gentle beauty, her gracious spirit. He felt disconnected, unbalanced.

Isolated.

But it was a small price to pay to keep her safe.

From his volatile energies.

From him _._

He glanced briefly at his watch as he shot through the open outer door to the East Pier, which had sensed his approach. He'd beaten last night's time by five minutes. David didn't stop until he'd almost reached the very edge of the pier, and just as it had every night he'd been coming out to this spot, the panorama took his breath away.

He looked out, way out into the darkness.

His brother was out there.

Somewhere.

He closed his eyes to the scene and focused, turning his attention inward.

Space was cold, but the chill felt good against the heat of his skin.

Space was silent, yet the unique hum of the city was all around him.

Connecting, rebalancing, reassuring. Comforting.

His breathing levelled out; his heartbeat slowed.

He gradually inhaled through his nose, drawing and centring his powerful energies. He then exhaled deeply, reaching out with his mind into the vastness of space once more.

 _John?_

* * *

Jennifer was a few minutes early for her scheduled 0800 meeting with David, but the man was nothing if not punctual.

David's prior meeting appeared to be with Doctor Karen Lindsay. Jennifer had gotten to know her reasonably well since her arrival to Atlantis some three years ago. Prior to that, Colonel Mitchell had shortlisted her to potentially become a member of SG-1, but thankfully his wish to bring the original team back together had been granted. Her field was anthropology, which made her like a mini version of Doctor Jackson. She was fluent in three Earth languages and Goa'uld, but it was her ability to speak and write Ancient that made her invaluable.

David glanced up at Jennifer as he handed Lindsay a file and gestured for her to come in.

"I'll have the translations done within the hour, Mr Sheppard."

He smiled graciously. "Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate it."

She was suddenly all smiles and blushes. "You're very welcome." She looked at Jennifer. "Doctor."

Jennifer stood aside to let her pass. "Doctor."

"Doctor Keller." He offered her a rather jaded smile. "Please, take a seat. I won't keep you a moment."

"Take your time, David." She gratefully sank down into the nearest chair as he typed quickly onto his laptop.

As CEO, he would've had at least one personal assistant to organize his days. Though he didn't have that luxury here, his desk was distinctly tidy. SGC folders and books sat in ordered piles. Elegant yet illegible handwritten notes bordered the edges of printouts. Yellow marker highlighted various sections of importance.

Somewhat surprisingly, there wasn't any sign of a coffee mug, but a large bottle of water sat within easy reach, which was almost empty. At least he was hydrating, but his exhausted countenance confirmed that he still wasn't sleeping well.

He looked up as he closed the lid of the laptop. "My apologies."

She offered him a reassuring smile. "Honestly, I don't mind. It's the first opportunity I've had to sit down all shift."

His expression abruptly stiffened. "There have been more injuries?"

"Lieutenant Edison suffered a mild concussion after he collapsed from heat exhaustion. Lieutenant Miller has pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?"

Her chin dipped. How she'd failed to pick up on the obvious symptoms continued to plague her conscience. She'd dropped the ball on that one. "Apparently he's been fighting a cold for weeks, and the last ice planet didn't help matters."

David sighed as he slowly shook his head.

"Lieutenant Kagan has frostbite," she continued. "Major Dorsey has a twisted ankle, and Doctor Donaldson suffered second degree burns while he was fixing a faulty circuit."

David rubbed a weary hand across his furrowed brow. "Damn."

"People are tired. No one can maintain this pace indefinitely."

He grimaced. "I know."

She hesitated. "And that includes you, David."

The steel blue eyes stared up at her, lingering. "The double shifts need to stop."

His succinct conclusion surprised her. "Yes."

David nodded once. "I'll speak to Colonel Mitchell."

Jennifer resisted the urge to sigh her relief. That had been so much easier than she'd expected.

"How's Major Rutherford's shoulder?"

Her eyebrows rose a little. "You heard about that, huh?"

"I saw him briefly in the mess hall."

"Simple dislocation, so he'll out of action for at least a couple of weeks."

David gave a brief nod of understanding. "And the rest of his team?"

"They're fine. He wasn't exactly … off-world at the time."

"He wasn't?"

She considered her next words carefully. "Let's just say that some of the guys felt the need to let off some steam."

"And by guys you mean … Ronon." His tone had levelled, grown quieter.

"Among others, yes. But it's what they do, David."

One eyebrow slowly lifted. "You think I disapprove?"

"Well … yeah, I guess."

He considered his hands as he linked them together on the desk. "I hate the fact that people are getting injured. But … every warrior must practice his art."

"I'm sorry?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Something my old Sensei used to say."

"Okay." She knew the word, just not why he'd have one.

"Needless to say, I understand both their need to train and their desire to let off some steam."

David was obviously tired or he'd never have given up something of himself quite so easily. "Do you?"

David's shoulders stiffened a little. "And Sergeant Mehra?"

She sighed inwardly. This Sheppard was one tough nut to crack. "Frustrated that I won't clear her for active duty."

"I can imagine."

"She may be ready for light duty in another week or two. Active duty … we'll just have to wait and see."

"Majors Stackhouse and Cooper?"

"Both are making steady progress, but I'm afraid they won't be seeing any action any time soon."

"And Rodney? Is his ankle healing satisfactorily?"

She sighed. "Although it was a clean break, it'll still be another six to eight weeks before the cast can come off. But that's highly dependent on whether or not he follows my instructions."

"An uncooperative patient?"

She snorted before she could stop herself. "And then some."

His face was kind, understanding. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

In his position, David Sheppard had the power to remove Rodney from duty, and she didn't think for one second that David would hesitate in doing so if he felt that it was necessary. The idea was tempting. Yet, while she was concerned about her boyfriend's health, she knew that if Rodney was removed it would make her personal life an absolute hell. If only they had …

"Doctor Keller?"

She forced a smile. "He'll be okay."

"I have no doubt about that." His smile was tinged with what could only be described as sadness. "He has you."

A slither of guilt pulled at her heart. She sighed.

"What is it?"

"I wish …"

"Go on," he prompted softly.

"It's just a shame that we don't have a Goa'uld healing device."

David tilted his head to one side. "A healing device?"

"Yeah. I believe that Vala used it on Mr Coalfield shortly before you made your appearance on TV."

A minute pause was accompanied by a frown. "Do you know where it is?"

"I guess it's either still at the SGC or been sent back to Area 51."

David rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Can anyone use it?"

"Not to my knowledge, no. As I understand it, you have to have Naquadah in your blood in order to do so."

His frown deepened. "So it works in the same way as the ATA gene operates Ancient technology?"

He was catching on fast. "Exactly."

"And who would have Naquadah in their blood?"

"Well, Goa'uld, obviously. The Tok'ra and former hosts."

His eyebrows rose. "Are you telling me that Vala …?"

Her momentary hesitation was instinctive. "Was a former host, yes."

David picked up his pen and quickly wrote something on his notepad. "Consider it done."

Jennifer's eyebrows rose. "Really?" He hadn't even spoken to General O'Neill yet.

He looked up. "You think that the General will deny my request?"

"Well … "

"He won't. Believe me."

She blinked. Was he suggesting that he'd use his powers of persuasion on General O'Neill?

"Doctor," he admonished gently. "I'm more than capable of presenting a strong enough case for having the device brought here."

She blushed. "Of course. It'll make a real difference having the device, and I'm sure that Vala won't mind helping out."

He smiled gently. "I'll speak to her anyway."

"Great."

His expression shifted. "And Teyla?"

"It was her ultrasound this morning."

If she hadn't been watching him so carefully, she would've missed the fleeting grimace.

His tone was softer. "How is she?"

A couple of days ago, Rodney had said that David had been avoiding her. Jennifer hadn't raised the issue with Teyla as she'd been emotional enough during her scan. But had he been right?

"She's doing remarkably well, all things considered."

"All things considered," he echoed quietly.

"The babies started to move a few days ago, so her sleep hasn't improved. However, the scans confirmed pretty much as we expected. Both boys. One is slightly smaller than the other, but there's still time for him to catch up."

His brow furrowed deeply.

She offered him a small encouraging smile. "It's perfectly normal, David. They should start their growth spurt any day now, but she needs to be eating more. Fish and lean meats, if possible."

"Her nausea has eased." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"Could she tolerate protein shakes?"

She nodded slowly. "Maybe."

"What about her heartburn and breathlessness?"

He seemed to know more about Teyla's health than she'd originally thought. Perhaps Rodney had been wrong, after all.

"Well, we've already tried antacids, but unfortunately they didn't seem to help. Gentle exercise and eating light meals more frequently should help reduce the heartburn."

"And her breathlessness?"

"Her bloods have confirmed that she's anemic, which means that she has fewer red blood cells, so her body has to work harder to provide enough oxygen for not just her but the babies, too. I've given her a liquid iron supplement, so hopefully that should improve now."

"You said gentle exercise. What would you recommend?"

"Gentle being the key word here. She still needs plenty of rest, but she can continue to practice her yoga, take light walks, and perhaps even start swimming again when she feels strong enough."

"Swimming?"

"Sure. You do know that there's a pool here, right?"

"It was on the twenty cent tour." The smile was transitory as his frown returned. He looked completely shattered.

"Are you okay?"

He reached for his pen, but made no move to use it. "Never better."

Sarcasm. It made a change to the usual response he gave her. "Are you managing to get any sleep?"

Silence.

She was used to evasive techniques. She adopteda more forceful tone. "David?"

A slight pause. "Some."

Finally, progress. "Did you try the sleeping tablets I gave you?"

He grimaced. "They didn't work."

"How many did you take?"

"Six."

" _Six_?" Her eyes widened. She'd prescribed him two. Six would've tranquilized an elephant.

He looked rather embarrassed. "Apparently my … constitution seems to neutralize the effect of the drugs."

"Oh." She hadn't even considered that might've been a problem. "I'll update your records and let Doctor Beckett know about this. He may want to take another blood sample and run some tests."

"Whatever you need, just let me know." He re-opened the laptop, which suggested the end of their meeting.

She stood up. "Thanks again, David."

He looked up at her. "For what?"

She smiled."For caring."

Something briefly flickered across his countenance, and then was gone. "I'm the one who should be thanking you. The hours you've been putting in lately …"

"We all have, David. Besides, it's my job."

A small exhale through his nose. "Nevertheless, you still have my thanks, Doctor."

"You're welcome. And it's Jennifer."

A ghost of a smile. "Thanks. _Jennifer_."

She turned around at the doorway. "You know I hear that meditation works for some. You might wanna try it."

He sank back against his chair. "I have. I usually find exercise works best."

"Yes, well, I'd be the first to advocate exercise, but you also have to feed the body."

"Protein. I know."

Though she'd been angling towards him actually eating in the first place, once again he'd surprised her. "Yes."

He struggled to contain a smile. "Spent most of my youth in strict training for some competition or another. It became a way of life in the end."

"It shows." Her cheeks rushed with heat. "Sorry. That _so_ didn't come out right."

He finally released a genuine smile. "I'm fine, Jennifer. Honestly."

She knew that his statement wasn't entirely true, but at least he'd opened up a little. Plus, he'd finally started to use her first name.

Small steps were still steps.

* * *

Daniel smiled at Amelia as he headed past her console towards David's office. With back to back missions and the hours of research he'd been putting in, Daniel hadn't had much chance to properly catch up with him. David had been somewhat of a closed book ever since the episode with the window, so Daniel wasn't exactly expecting a heart to heart with him. He also knew for a fact that David had yet to take Vala up on her offer of friendship, but everyone needed coffee at some point, right?

It looked like Mitchell had beaten him to it.

Although there was something about the way his teammate was standing before David that made Daniel think that this wasn't a social visit.

Looking like the utilities magnate that he was, David sat with hands linked together on the table. His posture was almost regimentally stiff and his demeanor was as commanding as any General.

He also looked like he'd pulled yet another all-nighter.

"I take it you heard about Lieutenants Edison and Miller?" David asked, his tone clipped.

"Of course," Mitchell replied rather defensively.

"That's two Jumper pilots out of action."

"David," Mitchell said warningly. "We've discussed this."

"I understand your need for caution, I do, but I've flown a Jumper before."

"Once. For like five minutes."

"Maybe so, but I am a qualified pilot, and—"

"To fly business jets, David. Not Ancient spacecraft."

"Do the math, Colonel. A reduction inworking hours, plus the injured personnel, equals less boots out in the field."

"And the answer's still no."

Daniel inwardly sighed. He'd been wondering how much longer it would be before the gruelling hours would stop, which meant that David would expect to play a more prominent role in the search. Unfortunately, he knew Mitchell's view on that issue only too well.

Daniel forced an upbeat grin as he leaned against the doorway. "Hey, guys. Anyone for coffee?"

The two men continued to regard each other in a silent battle of wills.

"What's the worst that could happen?" For a moment, David sounded just like John.

Mitchell folded his arms. "Oh, I dunno. You get abducted, experimented on …"

David let out a derisive snort as he leaned back in his chair. "Been there, done that."

"Which is exactly why—"

"Need I remind you that so far, not one mission has encountered any resistance, nor any indigenous life for that matter."

Mitchell raised a finger. "Yet."

"Colonel …"

"Until we bring Sheppard home, it's my responsibility to ensure the safety of this base and everyone on it, and that includes you."

"I don't need your protection." There was slight condescension to David's measured tone.

Mitchell regarded him calculatingly. "If Sheppard were here, what do you think he'd want you to do?"

"In case you've forgotten, Colonel, John was the one who reached out to _me_." David's tone had hardened.

"But since then he hasn't, has he?"

Silence.

David's expression darkened as his eyes flicked to Daniel's for a second, his mouth a tight line. He looked away. "I need to be out there, Colonel."

Mitchell winced and softened his voice. "When the time is right, yes. But now is not the time."

David slowly lifted his head. "Then when?"

Mitchell didn't relent. "The threat is still out there."

"You think I don't know that?" David's retort was sharp, like the crack of a whip.

Daniel felt the all too familiar electrical charge beginning to build in the room.

Mitchell took a deep breath. "You're not field ready."

David abruptly spread his arms wide with palms up. "So _make_ me field ready."

"It takes months of hard training, and we just don't have that kind of time to—"

"And neither does my brother," David interjected harshly over Mitchell's words.

Mitchell winced. "I'm sorry, David, but I just can't put your life in danger."

"It's _my_ life, _my_ choice to make."

"No."

The static charge grew heavier, and David inhaled deeply as his eyes drifted closed.

Mitchell slid his gaze over to Daniel as David slowly exhaled and the pressure in the room began to dissipate.

David's eyes opened deliberately and then rose to his feet. He paused as he drew level with Mitchell. "We'll talk about this again, Colonel. And when we do, I want you to keep something in mind."

"What's that?"

"Persistence beats resistance. Every. Single. Time."

Mitchell's entire demeanor instantly deflated the second David had left the room. "Hot damn."

"What?"

"For a second there, I thought he was gonna do his thing."

"His _thing_?"

"You know." He waggled his fingers towards his head.

"Actually, I was more worried about your pants suddenly catching on fire," Daniel quipped. The humor quickly dissipated, however, sobered by Mitchell's insinuation: David's abilities to influence the mind. "You really thought he'd do that?"

"Didn't you?"

Daniel quirked an eyebrow. "He hasn't yet."

"Yeah, and why hasn't he?"

"He obviously respects your position, Mitchell, not to mention your judgment."

Mitchell pulled a face of surprised acknowledgement. "I guess so."

"Though he's only gonna sit on the sidelines for so long."

Mitchell's expression hardened. "I won't endanger his life."

Daniel perched on the edge of the desk with a sigh. "But you can't keep him here indefinitely either."

"I know. But until we have something—anything—to go on, I will _not_ take that risk."

"And when that time comes?" Daniel folded his arms. "C'mon, Mitchell. We should be field training him now."

"Yeah. And if there were more hours in the day."

"Then, adjust the rotas."

"I'm going to. It's why this whole discussion started in the first place." Mitchell huffed and sank into a chair. "I was kinda hoping that his Jedi training would've come up with something by now."

Daniel's smirk was fleeting. "Yeah."

Mitchell regarded him uneasily. "It's been weeks, Daniel."

Daniel winced, trying not to let his imagination run riot as to the reasons why David had not heard from John.

"Maybe he just needs to be … I don't know. Out there."

His teammate snorted. "Compelling argument."

"Or not," Daniel conceded graciously. "But at this point, what have we got to lose?"

Mitchell gave an exasperated sigh, his expression pained. "He's all we got, Daniel. And if there's the slightest chance that the Vanir might decide that two Sheppards are better than one …"

Mitchell slipped into silence, and Daniel inwardly shuddered. "If we don't get a break soon, he may be the only chance that John Sheppard has."

* * *

Major Anne Teldy grabbed her water bottle from the holder as she maintained her relentless pace on the exercise bike. Her teammates, Anna Dean and Alison Porter were on the treadmills to her right, their strides synchronized as they listened to whatever music they were plugged into. Dusty Mehra was due to finish up her rehab session soon, and they'd arranged to meet her here afterwards.

Her team continued to go off-world, yet Mehra was never far from her thoughts. Teldy knew that it was hard for her to sit on the sidelines. Despite knowing that her injury had been serious, she was a woman of action, not to mention loyalty. Her wound was a constant reminder that, if it hadn't been for the quick thinking of Colonel Sheppard, she wouldn't be alive today. He'd had her six, but—in her mind—she hadn't had his, and it was tearing her apart.

Though that sentiment was shared by all, none felt it more than the man that was currently taking out some of his frustrations on a nearby punching bag.

Dressed in simple yet noticeably designer workout gear, David Sheppard had been at it for almost half an hour.

She'd been off-world at the time, but word of his breaking a window with his mind had spread through the city like wildfire, so she'd kept a weather eye on him, watching for the slightest sign that he'd once again lose control. But rather than punching a hole through the bag like Superman, his gloves continued to beat the leather into submission like any normal guy. The only signs of his inner turmoil was the odd grimace across his intensely focused expression as his fist delivered yet another precisely executed punch, which made the chain rattle and strain against the solid metal fixture in the ceiling.

If anything, his punches were beginning to slow, easing back from the ferocity that he'd displayed the moment he'd arrived.

Teldy glanced down at the display. Five more minutes and then her workout was done. Mehra should be out by then.

Sudden movement in her peripheral vision pulled her attention back. David had finished pummelling the punch bag and was pulling off his gloves as he wandered over to his bag that lay on the bench across the far side of the room. His sweat drenched t-shirt molded to his back like a second skin. Hardly surprising, given the intensity that he'd been displaying up until now.

He dropped the gloves into his bag, swept up his water bottle, and took a brief swig before he started to remove the wraps from around his hands.

"Goddamn motherf—"

"Mehra." Teldy inwardly winced at the weakened appearance of her teammate. She grabbed her water bottle and got off the bike. "Good session?"

Mehra glared at her as she held a hand over her wound site, her face pale. "What do you think?"

"What did Doctor McBride make you do this time?"

"It's what he _didn't_ want me to do. He's such an a-hole. I told him that I could do it, and I would've done if he'd just—" Her breath suddenly hissed and she folded forward.

It was a sure sign of her level of pain that Mehra didn't resist as Teldy's firm hand steered her towards the nearest bench.

"Sergeant?" David wiped the back of his neck with his sweat towel as he made his way towards them.

Unsurprisingly, Mehra tried to straighten up and her smile became a grimace. "Hey, Mr Sheppard. How you doin'?"

"You really should listen to the Doctor, you know."

"Yeah. Sure." Her tone was dismissive, bordering on disrespectful as she glared at the floor.

David regarded her contemplatively, then squatted down in front of her, balancing on the balls of his feet. Mehra looked up, her gaze instantly captured by his steel blue eyes.

"You were badly wounded."

"I've had worse." Her chin lifted proudly.

"You must allow your body time to heal."

Her expression had lost a little of the anger but none of the resentment. "I ain't got time. I need to be out there."

A glimmer of something flashed across his countenance. "I know, and I need you out there too. But your health matters more. Don't let your impatience disregard reason."

Her silence, although unusual, was predictable. Whether he was using his powers or not, David Sheppard was an incredibly charismatic guy.

"Have faith, Sergeant. Small steps are still steps."

Mehra slowly nodded her compliance, and she carefully leaned her head back against the wall.

David stood up and glanced at Teldy.

She tipped her head in silent gratitude, which earned her a lopsided smile. "Major."

"Mr Sheppard."

"Were you about to use the mats?"

"No, we're done." Teldy still had to squash down the automatic response of adding ' _sir'_ at the end. He wasn't military, but he carried an air of authority, nonetheless.

David headed back over to his belongings.

"Hey, Dusty." Dean rushed over, Porter following close behind. "How long you been here?"

"Not long." Mehra was noticeably more subdued.

Dean and Porter shared a concerned glance before turning towards Teldy for elaboration. She shook her head. Going back over it would only rile their teammate up again.

"We didn't realize David Sheppard was here again," Porter said, glancing over to where he stood.

Teldy raised an eyebrow. "Volume set too loud?"

Dean looked a little sheepish. "That and the treadmills are facing the wrong way."

David's presence in the gym had become more frequent lately. Which was kinda nice. It felt like he was one of them and not some stiff suit who just sat in his office. Richard Woolsey notwithstanding, of course. David was a slick combination of Suit and sports fanatic.

"Six o' clock," Dean murmured, and Teldy looked around.

David had removed his shoes and socks. His bare feet padded softly across the mat. He headed for the center, rotating and stretching his shoulders. Then, he took a slow deep breath and went utterly still.

Sharing the gym while working out was one thing. Watching him like some kinda groupie was quite another, and Teldy wondered if they should leave him to it. But then, if the guy wanted privacy, he wouldn't have come down to the gym. If his charismatic TV interview was anything to go by, he certainly wasn't fazed by having an audience.

She'd seen that he was pretty capable in Aspen, but she was curious to see just what other kind of moves he had.

It took no more than five seconds for Teldy to recognize the moves. Tai Chi Ch'uan, and the meaning of the words weren't lost on her.

Tai Chi. It meant the source, the beginning.

Ch'uan meant fist.

Judging by the way David was performing the kata, he'd practiced this particular form for years. Every movement was smooth and graceful, the actions dynamic and powerful. His regulated breathing controlled and deep. Movement in stillness, stillness in movement.

As she continued to watch, Teldy felt her heart rate steady. Her tight muscles relaxed and her overall tension eased. She couldn't decide whether David was using his powers or if it was just the hypnotic moves that were having this effect on her, but one look at her teammates—who looked just as chilled out as she was—she didn't really care.

Teldy felt a wash of disappointment as David finished the kata. But then the disappointment slowly morphed into something more.

She could sense it in the air, feel in her gut.

David's eyes were now closed. His chest rose as his breathing deepened.

Then ever so slowly, he extended his right hand.

Something came hurtling through the air, straight into his upturned palm.

David's eyes were wide with astonishment and a small smile emerged. It turned into a delighted grin as he stared at the slim white object in his hand.

Her team gasped beside her, and Teldy felt her own mouth drop open. Not only had David very publically displayed one of his powers—a fact that seemed to have surprised even David—but the object also looked shockingly familiar.

David inhaled sharply then flicked his wrist, and the unmistakable shining metal began to extend.

"Whoa," Porter murmured.

"Holy cow," breathed Mehra. "Isn't that the Colonel's sword?"

"It … can't be." Teldy whispered. The Colonel had been using it moments before he'd been taken. The image of her CO wielding his almost magical sword against the Vanir was probably going to stay with her until the day she died.

David's own expression was a mixture of awe and wonder as he regarded the sword as though he was seeing it for the first time.

Even though they were standing several feet away, Teldy had never seen the weapon this close before. It had no pommel on the end or crossguard at the hilt. The grip was only evident by the thickening of the titanium looking metal. Strange yet elegant markings ran down the center, which tapered to the sharpest tip. It was simply beautiful.

David brought the sword up vertically as if in some kind of salute, then stepped back in a deep stance. Light glinted off the slim blade as it sliced through the air to rest down by his side. His eyes were once again closed, his expression serene. It reminded her of the Colonel whenever he sat in the Control Chair.

He then began a series of moves. It looked to be some kind of sword kata, but it wasn't one that Teldy was familiar with. Maybe it was something that Brother Benedict had been teaching him.

Advance one step, withdraw one step. Chop once, cut once. Hand and sword in conjunction. Coil and spin, rise and fall, his body followed the movements of the sword. Lithe and graceful, surprising and subtle; body and sword were as one.

It was utterly cathartic to watch.

The kata seemed to come to an end as David brought the sword back up to the vertical position.

The silence felt heavy, the atmosphere tinged with a poignancy that grew stronger as David gently rested the blade against his forehead that had deepened to a frown. The serenity of his expression started to fade.

Suddenly, the sword was in motion once again. His shoulders rolled easily through each rotation as he spun the blade in a continuous figure eight, and the air seemed to vibrate with every turn. As the momentum increased, the pressure in the air grew heavier and the blade began to blur into a white light. The harmonics began to change. It had started to sing.

It wasn't the same soulful sound that Teldy remembered the Colonel's sword had made. It seemed broken,disjointed **.** Less of a melody and more like an instrument being yet thealmost spiritual purity of its tone was still there.

It had to be the Colonel's sword. But how did David come to have it?

And then everything stopped.

David carefully lowered the tip of the blade towards the floor as he turned away. He took a small step towards his belongings but paused.

"Oxygen."

It was barely a whisper, but the unexpected clarity of the word sent shivers down Teldy's spine.

He tilted his head up as he inhaled deeply. "Hydrogen."

Teldy frowned.

Another step, another deep breath in. "Chloride."

Wasn't chloride something to do with chlorine? Chlorine was a seriously toxic gas. Teldy cautiously sniffed the air. She couldn't smell anything. She glanced at Mehra, who looked as perplexed as she was.

"Sodium."

Sodium was a type of metal, which didn't even have a smell. What was David talking about?

"Magnesium."

Her heart abruptly stumbled. After so many weeks, was David finally having a vision?

"Oh boy," Porter uttered on a breath.

"What?" Teldy demanded quietly.

"I might be wrong, but …"

"What!" she whispered sharply.

Porter's eyes were wide. "It's the composition of sea water."

"Lost … in liquid."

Her gaze shot back to David. His trance-like utterance sent ice cold dread straight through her.

The Colonel was … under water?

Agonizing silence stretched.

Then David made a very small strangled sound as he hunched forward.

All she could see was his back, but it looked as though he was cradling his stomach.

"Mr Sheppard?" Teldy took a small step towards him.

"I'm … fine."

The quiver in his voice did little to reassure her. "You sure?"

David started to turn around. "It's time."

For a moment, Teldy was completely struck dumb at the dramatic change in his appearance. Dark circles around his downcast eyes were a stark contrast against the sheen of his deathly pale skin.

"Time … for what?" Teldy found her voice but almost dreaded the answer.

David grunted as he winced, tightening his hold about his waist as though he were holding himself together.

"Mr Sheppard?" She took another small step and his gaze snapped up.

She gasped as incredible sapphire blue eyes stared back at her. "Daddy's coming."

Teldy had no words.

He groaned and exhaled slowly through gritted teeth.

Vision or not, David was clearly suffering. It was time to call for some backup. She reached up to ear and silently cursed. Her comm was in her locker. "Anyone got their comms?"

Mehra grimaced, Porter shook her head, and Dean started to fumble through the pockets of her pants.

"Crap." David ground out the word on a trembling breath, and the sword suddenly clattered to the ground. He folded over, both arms clutching at his stomach.

Teldy rushed to his side and started to reach out, but the piercing blue eyes swung back towards her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Time seemed to stand still as she stood transfixed, watching as the sapphire blue slowly began to transform.

Distorting from the outer edges, an opaque shadow bled over the surface of his eyes like an oil slick, sliding across the ocean of blue, devouring the light with its dark until nothing but the lifeless pools of ebony remained.

She'd only heard about what had happened in the jumper back in Aspen, but Lorne's simple yet graphic description had rocked her to the core. _Cold, lifeless. Like a shark._ It hadn't been long after that, that the Colonel had … died.

David suddenly rasped loudly as though he couldn't breathe **,** seemingly breaking her inability to move.

Teldy bolted forward just as David's legs buckled beneath him.

Then everything went to hell.

* * *

Footnotes:

And so the cliff hangers begin …

David's musical journey was originally a lot longer, but I felt the need to cut it short.

Tai Chi Ch'uan. Carefully researched, though its actual meaning seems somewhat varied in interpretation, so please overlook any discrepancies. It's leaning towards self-defence rather than John's natural preference towards combat, not to mention the very logical link to energy, felt the most appropriate form for David. And a very interesting insight to the Jedi in Star Wars. But that, as they say, is another story.

Additional Intel:

The following are all genuine characters from the series and are still very much alive:

Doctor Lindsay: seen in SG-1 Avalon Part 1, then SGA - Coup D'etat.

Lieutenant Edison: SGA - Search and Rescue.

Lieutenant Kagan: SGA - Phantoms.

Major Eliot Rutherford: SGA - Sateda

Major Dorsey: SGA - Tabula Rasa.

Doctor Donaldson: SGA - Grace under Pressure

Doctor McBride: SGA – Adrift, Identity and The Legacy of Janus


End file.
